I wrote a poem.
I'm not okay.
Striking beauty Mezmorized,
Dream filled feilds of Dirt and Butterflies.
Nobody to comfort,
No one to care.
Did anyone notice that she was there?
To her, there is beauty in them both.
She only wishes there was hope.
Her vision is blurred.
Like when those tears,
burn her purple star-stained eyes.
Burning like fire, she falls asleep.
Spinning ballerina, round and round,
Vision blurring like the sound.
Lovely dress, tattered and torn.
Those boys just want her for their porn.
She wishes she's never met the angel,
Darkened beauty, I'm becoming unstable........
I wish I weren't so flirtatious.